Vowed to Never Say
by Rasiaa
Summary: Goodbye's more painful, Ren-chan. Feels like closure. I won' say goodbye 'til you know I ain't commin' back.


He might've had immense power, and gotten a huge amount of achievements, and lived for well over a century, but by the end of the day, the fact of the matter is, is that, in the end, he was only human. He tasted, felt, and saw. He tasted the tears in his mouth, and could very nearly taste a victory. He felt the pain- the pain of the sword going right through his chest- and he felt the blood seeping from the wound. He felt the blow of loss, and he could feel her sorrow and disbelief as if they were his own. He could see his blood on her hands, and he saw her call for help. He saw her tears, her pain, and there was nothing he could do. And he knew it, especially when his vision became darker around the edges, and it became so, _so_ hard to breathe.

She screamed and cried; begging and pleading with everything she had for him not to go. Not to leave her. Sure, he had left her thousands of times before, sometimes for an hour and other times for over a month. Once, he had been gone for three years. But it was different that time, and they both knew it. Death was so permanent, and it would be a one in a _seven billionth_ chance they would ever be able to see each other ever again. He would never come back if he died, and she knew that there was no chance of seeing him once more- _if only, only once more,_ she pleaded silently to a god she didn't believe in- in that body he was in, with that same, beautiful mind, and the same memories of their childhood together, and the same feelings they shared.

_Why are you always leavin' me?_

_Som'imes, I gotta go, Ren-chan. My life innit all 'ere, an' I gotta get food, yeah?_

_I, I, I guess so. But why can't I go with you, Gin?_

_It ain't safe. Not for ye, an' not really for meself, neither, but I'm stronger then you, Ren-chan._

_What's strength got to do with it?_

_I can beat up the folks who'd hurt ye, but I don't wanna take the chance of ye getting' to 'em in the first place. _

_You don't even leave a note. I just wake up and you're gone, with no goodbye. _

_Goodbye's more painful, Ren-chan. Feels like closure. I won' say goodbye 'til you know I ain't commin' back. _

_You'll always come back, though, right?_

_Ye can bet on it, Rangiku. I ain't ever gonna leave ye. _

He took one shuddering breath and pulled her closer. He stared firmly, unwaveringly, into her shimmering gray eyes and said he words he had vowed to never say, not even to her. "I love ye, Ren-chan, I hope ye know that. Goodbye, Ren-chan."

Especially not to her. She knew his reasons, and she let out a small gasp of pain when he faltered from lack of air on her name. "No," she hissed fiercely, placing her strong hands on his flowing wound and pressing hard. "No, Gin, this is not goodbye. Remember, remember," she grasped at straws desperately, the tears beginning to run down her cheeks and onto his face, "you're never going to leave me, remember? Can't you recall, that, once upon a time, in a small village and, even further, a small cottage, you swore to never, ever leave me for good. You'll keep good on that promise, Gin, or I swear god…" she faltered, pressing harder on his wound while he struggled to breathe.

She pressed her face into his chest, sobbing helplessly. "You'll stay here, Gin, with me, and we'll have those dried persimmons that grow in the back of the Squad Three Barracks, and we'll stay together, forever," she prayed between sobs.

"I love ye, Ren-chan," he whispered into her ear, breath leaving him.

She felt his pulse stop, and lifted her head with a wail, screaming long and loud, holding tightly to his kimono. She screamed and cried, even for weeks, months, years later, knowing that his last thoughts, as least, were of her. It was the only thing that lessened the blow. There was no closure, since the Central 46 and the Head-Captain did not see fit to burn him properly.

There were no burials for traitors, after all. No matter who loved them.


End file.
